


Shakespeare, Arthur, Mythology & The Stars

by ESP_Witch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Slytherin Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-04 16:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ESP_Witch/pseuds/ESP_Witch
Summary: The Potters birth 4 girls - the souls of Hermione, Ginny, Luna & Tonks. With Harry's soul born to Luna's parents, a different Prophecy, a bit of soul magic age reversal, 2 versions of Riddle running around & 4 girls as Chosen Ones, things muck up through Halloween & Dumbledore's Dursley plan shifts. DracoxHermione, TomxLuna, SiriusxGinny, LupinxTonks. 4 unique powers, 4 houses.Posted from FF. The first several chapters were posted together. Keep that in mind when you read the stats.





	1. The Prophecy, The Veil & a Dursley Plan

Chapter One: The Prophecy, The Veil & a Dursley Plan

“Why do you believe you deserve a post as Hogwarts Divination professor?” Albus Dumbledore asked. He was sitting in a tiny inn room above the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade village. The room was a square wood sort of affair, small and plain, its bed decorated with stiff purple and white bedspreads that gave one the constant impression they had just been cleaned of mold. Serviceable, but little else.

He had requested this place, and not just because the barkeep was his brother. No one would bother them at the Hog’s Head; it wasn’t that sort of place. Dark, dingy, and full of sketchy characters, everyone looked the other way when it came to each other.

His potential Divination professor, Sybil Trelawney, sat across from him at the room’s table for her interview, a single candle lit between them in the shadowy room, winter storming across outside through the small, old-fashioned window. Trelawney was covered in bangles and shawls, her hair frazzled and her eyes huge behind bejewelled glasses.

Like her mannerisms, it seemed to be all for show.

“I can See with my mind’s eye that you are skeptical of me, Headmaster Dumbledore…” she said in a slow, silvery, misty voice, sounding very wise.

“No, you can see from my face. I’m not trying to hide it,” said Dumbledore, smiling frigidly in a way that belied his appearance - the long silver beard, rich purple robes, and spectacles of the O Wise One. Since the civil war had started among their kind, Dumbledore had less patience than he used to.

Sybil stopped and gave a distinctly unSeerlike frown and a glare.

“Fine,” she said in a flatter voice. “I believe I deserve the position because I have a clear case of the Sight - just like my famous Seer grandmother, Cassandra. You knew her, correct, Headmaster Dumbledore?”

“I did,” said Dumbledore, leaning forward, his hands steepled. “And she truly was a great Seer. But I am not convinced you have inherited her gifts. What proof do I have?”  
“Just like one without the Sight… to misunderstand… to need proof…” said Sybil, somehow lofty and silvery at the same time. “But I see something, Professor Dumbledore… an undue affection for my late grandmother, perhaps?”

“I am gay,” said Dumbledore matter of factly, and a furious flush came over Sybil’s face.

“Fine - I see -!” She was becoming desperate. “I see that you are distrustful of those around you, I see -!” She had actually leaned forward. Sybil wasn’t particularly talented or clever; she needed this job.

The problem was, Dumbledore himself wasn’t convinced Seeing and Divination could be taught anyway. It was an innate gift.

“Easy to tell for anyone like me leading a great group of people in the fight against the Dark Lord Voldemort.” Sybil flinched as Dumbledore got to his feet. “I am leading the Order of the Phoenix in the war; I am a part of several government councils in addition to being headmaster of Hogwarts School. Of course I am on edge and distrustful; we all are.

“So, Ms Trelawney, I believe that concludes our interview.” Dumbledore had turned away toward the door. “Thank you very much, but I believe your services are not require -”

“Four girls will appear to vanquish the Dark Lord.”

Dumbledore paused at the voice coming from behind him, his eyes widening. This voice was quite unlike Sybil’s previous ones, either normal or silvery. It was hoarse and rough, and when Dumbledore turned back, he saw Sybil’s mouth sagging and gaping, her eyes rolling around as if she were having a seizure.

It was almost as if she were making a real Prophecy.

“Four girls will appear to vanquish the Dark Lord… assisted by those within yet without of the Dark Lord’s rankings… born to those who have thrice defied him… born as the seventh month dies…”

Sybil suddenly snorted and seemed to come awake, returning to her normal self. “So sorry, what have I missed?” she said. She didn’t seem to remember anything. Dumbledore stared at her warily. Sybil returned to herself and ran desperately at Professor Dumbledore. “Please, Professor, I promise I can -!”

“Yes, you have the job, Sybil,” said Dumbledore abruptly, still staring. “We are moving you to Hogwarts Castle immediately.”

Only there would she be safe. Sybil did not seem to realize what she had just done. And if Voldemort got his hands on her… Dumbledore didn’t want to think about what might happen, most particularly to her.

“Oh, thank you, thank you -!” Sybil seemed delighted.

“Hey! What are you doing out here?! Get away!” came a rough voice from right outside the door. Dumbledore burst it open to see his massive, bearded, plain-clothed brother wrestling someone away from where they had been listening on the landing. Severus Snape had been listening - and Severus Snape, a sallow, prowling man with greasy black hair and a hooked nose, worked for Voldemort. 

“Aberforth, no! Wait -!” Dumbledore rushed down the stairs into the dark and dingy pub itself, but Aberforth, his brother, had already thrown Severus Snape out of the pub and into the cold, snowy night. 

“Spying in my pub… Get out of here! And stay out!” Aberforth slammed the door shut.

Dumbledore ran to the glass paneling in the door just as he saw Severus Snape Disapparate away in the snowstorm, vanishing in a gust of wind without a trace. He felt suddenly cold.

But supposedly… if the wording of Sybil’s prophecy were truly accurate… it would not have mattered whether or not Voldemort knew…

Those four girls under that family would have grown up to be a threat anyway.

-

The Potter couple sat down before Dumbledore’s claw-footed desk in his office at Hogwarts Castle. Fawkes the Phoenix was on his golden perch behind them, little silver instruments whirred and emitted puffs of smoke all around the big sunlit airy room full of windows, books lined the shelves, and the moving portraits of snoozing headmasters and headmistresses lined the wall behind Dumbledore’s desk.

“It’s nice to be back at the old place. Had a trip through some of my old passageways and hiding places,” said James cheerfully, leaning back easily in his seat before Dumbledore. He had messy black hair, hazel eyes, and glasses, a Pureblood Potter in the truest sense of the word.

“What did you want to see us about, Professor Dumbledore?” Lily asked warmly. She had long, straight dark-red hair and bright green eyes, completely different from her blonde and blue-eyed Muggle sister.

“You two have stopped fighting for the Order for one very specific reason, one I do not contest in the slightest,” said Dumbledore. “According to all reports, you two are going to have quadruplets. Four children, all girls. At the end of July.”

It was the only possibility.

“Yes, it’s going to be a nightmare,” said James calmly.

“For you? You won’t even have to give birth to them!” Lily snapped, and James smiled uneasily.

“At least they’ll be fraternal,” said James. “That way we’ll be able to tell them apart.” Lily slapped him on the shoulder. “Ow! What? I thought it was a good point!”

“And you are searching for a home? One big enough for four children?” Dumbledore continued.

“Well… yes,” said Lily, frowning. “But why would you need to meet us about that?”

Dumbledore put his Pensieve before them. A shallow stone basin covered in carvings, it had swirly silver liquid-vapor memories swirling around inside it. He swirled them around with his long-fingered hand, and called one forth.

Sybil’s head appeared floating above the basin. She gave the full prophecy, and then faded back down into swirling memory inside the Pensieve.

Lily’s hand was over her mouth. James had leaned forward, his eyes wide.

“Your family must go into hiding immediately,” said Dumbledore, eyeing Lily’s growing belly. “Because Voldemort knows.”

“How?” James demanded.

“Someone was listening outside our door when Sybil, our new Divination instructor, gave the Prophecy during my teacher’s interview with her in a private room at the Hog’s Head,” said Dumbledore.

“Who?”

Dumbledore looked quietly at Lily. “Severus Snape.”

Lily’s eyes closed at the memory of her old childhood friend, a friendship that had turned so horribly wrong. “... So what do we do?” she asked at last, her eyes opening, determined.

“Exactly. That bastard isn’t laying his hands on my daughters,” said James angrily.

“I would normally have suggested an old cottage I used to live in at a small rural village. But with four children on the way? It’s not big enough. So I am afraid I have to recommend Sirius’s childhood home - the Black family estate, 12 Grimmauld Place, a dark and grim old manor house in London,” said Dumbledore. “You will give birth there, everything.”

 

“... Won’t Sirius’s mother be rather upset that we’re living there?” said James uncertainly.

“Ah, that. Well, I told Sirius the home would be useful in helping you and your family, so Sirius promptly wrote to his mother and told her he was marrying a Muggle. I am told she died of a heart attack, the letter still clutched in her hand,” said Dumbledore matter of factly. “A rather grim way to get the house, but it is now his and he is gifting it to you. I was told to pass along the message: Better you than me.”

“Ah,” said Lily. “... Comforting.”

-

Lily walked, fully pregnant, around her babies’ new home. She was troubled, pondering. The manor was full of crimson and dark wood and velvet, with long sweeping staircases and four poster beds and floor length curtains and an ancient grand piano. The city of London rumbled by outside. In a dark way, it should have been grand.

But the house elf hated them, his ancestors’ taxidermied heads were mounted on an upstairs wall, dour moving portraits glared at them from the other walls, and a troll foot umbrella stand stood by the front door. Walburga Black’s portrait hadn’t been put up yet, but Sirius had informed them his mother was an indignant screamer, “so you have that to look forward to.”

The place always seemed dark and shadowy, even in the daytime, like some sort of permanent spell. Lily and James were afraid to touch any of the ancient artifacts in the cupboards in case they were cursed. Some stains around the house looked suspiciously like blood. Even the books of names on her shelves were filled with dark, elegant, fantastical names she’d never have previously considered for her daughters.

It was not, she thought, a portentous beginning for a warm and growing family to come. And right outside their door, a war raged on and that evil man was plotting the death of her unborn daughters… over a Prophecy of power…

All precautions had been made. The binding on the house elf never to leave the home, the Floo network shut off, the Fidelius Charm put up and an innocent looking Peter Pettigrew made the Secret-Keeper on Sirius’s recommendation. All seemed well enough.

But Lily still worried. She had a bad feeling - and her bad feelings usually weren’t wrong.

Well, nothing for it. She lifted herself matter of factly out of her gloom and bustled away. To detoxifying and decursing the house, then, making it a bit more liveable.

-

On Halloween night over a year later, Lily and James were just shepherding what James fondly called their “small herd of toddlers” from the Grimmauld Place sitting room toward the staircase when Voldemort blasted down the front door.

“It’s him! Lily, take the girls and go! I’ll hold him off!”

Voldemort shrieked with laughter from beneath his dark hooded cloak as James sprang in front of him, wand at the ready. Both parents had their wands on them - they used them to levitate the four girls up the stairs to bed at night, both to amuse their daughters and because it was easier.

Lily levitated the girls now and sprinted up the stairs with them, they looking wonderingly over their shoulders at the goings-on below them.

James was an expert in Transfiguration. He and Voldemort made an almighty mess of things as they transfigured different pieces of furniture in the manor front entryway, crashing them against each other in a great battle. Finally, in the middle of a Transfiguration struggle, James tried to sneak in a red jet of a curse through the struggling Transfigured objects - and Voldemort was ready for him.

The spell rebounded and hit James, temporarily dazing him and knocking him off of his feet.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A single jet of green light and James Potter lay slumped, dead.

Voldemort mounted the stairs and sensed out the correct room - the room with the most concentrated magic inside of it. He tried the door handle, and smirked. The girl had built up a blockade, trying to hold him back from opening the door.

He waved his wand and the blockade behind the door flew away, the door flying open.

Lily stood there ready in the room, her face determined. They were in the master bedroom, with its king-sized four-poster bed and its hangings. Her four girls were peering curiously, hesitantly around her from behind, in their pajamas. They stood on the bed as she stood before them, a strong glowing gold Shield Charm at the ready.  
Voldemort stepped slowly, softly, into the room.

“Now this is interesting,” he said softly, in his high, unnatural voice. “I do not want to kill you, Lily Potter. I suppose I cannot convince you to simply stand aside?”

“If you want my daughters, you’ll have to get to them over my dead body,” Lily spat in a hard voice.

“That can be arranged,” said Voldemort, sounding cruelly amused, and he shot a surprise Killing Curse - one of the only unblockable spells - right through her Shield Charm. “Avada Kedavra!”

Lily Potter fell over like a puppet with its strings cut and lay dead, her green eyes wide open and her face growing paler, her hand with its wand still thrown out where she’d been shielding her children.

The girls stared down at her brightly, uncomprehendingly. They thought she was acting, having no true idea what was going on. They looked up at Voldemort, perhaps expecting him to be their father underneath that cloak -

He stepped closer and they saw his face. It was bone white and snake-like, with thin lips, slits for nostrils, and glowing red eyes, thin and in sharp definition like a skull, hairless.

The girls began crying. All four of them. They had seen he was not James.

Voldemort’s lip curled in fury. He hated crying. He never had been able to stomach the small ones whining at the orphanage, and with all four going at once, this sounded just like that.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin would be dealt with next. They had to be what the Prophecy was referring to - a Black and a werewolf, but friends of the Potters and the Order. But he had to deal with this most important problem first.

In a wave of irritation at the chorus of screaming crying, he lashed out in a Killing Curse at all four without thinking to aim for anyone in particular. “Avada Kedavra!”  
All four girls were protected by Lily’s love spell. The curse rebounded off of all four of them at once, not one in particular scarred, and it hit Voldemort. In a great explosion, he disappeared.

Elsewhere, quite abruptly, so did Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

-

A few days later, Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold - a square, squat, heavily-jowled woman in a black pantsuit - stood behind Albus Dumbledore in the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries.

Blue torches glowed on the black, windowless underground walls. The silence was almost eerie as the silvery Veil floated quietly before them.

“I still don’t see why you wanted to come here, Albus,” said Minister Bagnold. “You’ve examined the sites individually where all three people have disappeared. Why come here?”

“Because this is indelibly connected to all three disappearances,” said Dumbledore, waving his wand quietly over the Veil. He stood back at last. “Yes, I believe I know what happened.”

“Care to enlighten me?” said Minister Bagnold flatly, who, to her credit, had had a very trying week.

“I believe that Voldemort has made himself technically immortal. You have heard of Horcruxes? Every time he murdered an important person, he tore off a piece of his soul and locked it away in a protected, undisclosed location,” said Dumbledore. “This is the key to everything else.

“You see, Voldemort has torn his soul so many times, he doesn’t feel it or notice it anymore. He doesn’t realize how fractured it is.

“Here is what happened. Lily Potter sacrificed herself shielding her children in an act of love and blood, thereby making each of them impervious to touch by the Dark Lord Voldemort, the one who killed her. This includes magical touch. During the four-strong Killing Curse rebound, his soul was hit so hard that a part of it tried to split off from the rest. But it couldn’t find any place to go into. None of the girls, for example, were marked, having all rebounded the Curse at once, and no magical artifacts lay open.

“So this is what occurred instead. With no clear place to go, his entire remaining soul became lost and it separated from his mind and magical essence entirely.

“Voldemort’s remaining spirit, with no body and no power, went one way. And I do not believe he may have noticed that his soul went another. 

“Here is where it gets interesting. The only way to heal a broken soul is for it to repent something terrible it has done. In that moment, Voldemort’s soul had every reason to feel true regret - it had just experienced terrible pain, and it was now lost, fractured, with no owner. It realized its own stupidity too late. And so it regretted.

“And in doing so, it healed itself.

“So now we have Voldemort’s broken, soulless spirit somewhere out there in the world, with no body or power attached, and we have a newly healed soul floating around in the ether. This all happened in seconds. That soul is, I believe, stuck in stasis at the last moment it was truly whole - which is sixteen. All its other memories have been lost.”

“So where is it? The soul?” Minister Bagnold demanded.

“I believe I have discovered what your Department was trying to do with this Veil,” said Dumbledore instead. “Are you familiar with Plato’s theory of the forms?”

Minister Bagnold stared blankly.

“Plato believed that there is the world we know, and then a separate world made entirely of the essence of each thing on earth. The single essence of all the trees in the world, for example, exists in this other realm. Souls also belong to this realm, though minds and bodies do not.

“This is a Veil to the other realm - to Plato’s world of the forms. Young Tom Riddle’s soul is stuck in statis here, but it does not belong. He is on the other side of the Veil, but I am sensing unrest in the Veil because it does not want him there.

“And now we get to Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

“My guess is that Voldemort was thinking of those two right before he was destroyed. It makes sense - consider the Prophecy. Those two would be the most logical helpers to try and destroy. A werewolf and a Black would usually be on the Dark Side, but these two, friends of the Potters, defied expectations.

“But in doing so, his soul pulled their souls into stasis along with him. The tug of the other realm, of the Veil, was too strong.”

“So where are their bodies?” said the Minister disbelievingly.

“In that realm, there is no body. There is only form. So when they come back, you see, they will have bodies. The transition will be too severe to allow otherwise.”  
“When they come back?”

“Oh, yes. As I said, the Veil does not believe they belong. As you know, a full magical ejection under non-special circumstances usually takes about ten days. The problem is, time works different in the realm beyond the Veil. So we have ten years before they reappear, with the memories previously specified. Black and Lupin will have all their memories through the war and their twenties. Riddle will only remember being sixteen.

“As to what age their bodies will physically be… I do not know. That will be decided by the Veil. It appears to be… weirdly sentient. Quite miraculous, really.  
“If I’m guessing right… they will come back aged eleven. At Hogwarts age. 

“And of course, wherever he is out there, Voldemort will be even worse. He no longer has any soul left at all,” said Dumbledore softly. “He is a mind and a powerful magic, a sick creation of a disturbed boy who is now back with us. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Why are you guessing eleven?” said the Minister, frowning.

“Consider it. Of his ranks but not of his ranks? All three of these people fit that qualification. Tom Riddle, however much he wants to be, is not the Dark Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore plainly. 

“They’re the helpers to those girls for when he comes back,” the Minister realized, her eyes widening.

“Well, they may not be the only ones… but it would be impossible not to see the connection,” said Dumbledore. “They will be the age the girls are. It makes sense.”

“So… when they come back out… you want them to go to Hogwarts,” the Minister realized, disbelieving. She nodded, thinking. “It would not be a stretch,” she said slowly, “to say that they are the children of themselves, and to let them live at Hogwarts… I’ll allow that, under Prophecy,” she said at last. “But all three will be kept under Ministry-controlled trackers and tight leashes.”

“A reasonable idea, Minister, though if I know these three, they may eventually find some way to break free,” Dumbledore warned.

“Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” said Minister Bagnold fairly.

Dumbledore nodded in acquiesce to her point. “But just in case… we should be using Occlumency shields to hide our minds, and we should not tell them what all this is for. Why they are being sent to Hogwarts. Too many factors could then interfere with the Prophecy; at the beginning, it would be too much of a giveaway.

“On the other hand,” he said slowly, “these girls might make for a marvelous four man team. That’s a good thing. And I mean that not only in battles, but in more team-based competitions.

“One final warning.”

“Just one?” said Minister Bagnold dryly.

“Though these two groups of people, numbers unknown, are meant to help each other… they may dislike each other at first. I also question what individual, special connection any of these girls would have with the Dark Lord Voldemort, and what the possible repercussions of that lack of connection would be…” Dumbledore added softly, spinning his mind off into plannings only he could conceive of.

“Fine. For the next ten years this Veil is under constant monitor by Ministry officials,” said Minister Bagnold. “I’ll lay out the terms enshrined in a private, top-secret law. Now come with me. I want to hear your plans for those four girls, now that the war is for now over and their parents and Voldemort are gone.

“But first, I want them magic-tested. I want to see just how powerful these girls are, how healthy and stable they are, and what special abilities they have, if any.”  
Minister Bagnold and Professor Dumbledore left the veil room together.

“Sometimes it seems like everyone had kids last year,” Minister Bagnold sighed as they left. “First the Malfoys had a son, and then the Lovegoods had a son. And they’ll all be going to Hogwarts at the same time.”

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “War does tend to do that,” he pointed out gently.

“Of course, I don’t know what will happen to the Malfoy boy’s father after his association with Voldemort,” said Minister Bagnold plainly. “But it’s not exactly like we can lock up the kid.”

Dumbledore paused in surprised realization - looked back over his shoulder, smiled and walked away.

Behind them, the greyish-silvery Veil fluttered quietly in a breeze that did not exist, lit by blue flame torches against blank black walls.

-

The tiny toddler Potter girls stood, confused, in the middle of the Minister for Magic’s private office as Healers in lime-green robes inlaid with the crossed bone and wand symbol knelt on the plush carpet before the massive desk and waved wands in the air all around them. Little golden words sprouted from the wands in lines, each in a little readout.

“... Minister, Headmaster,” said the Head Healer, his eyes widening. “You’re going to want to read these abilities.”

They walked over - and as Minister Bagnold’s eyes widened in wonder, Dumbledore’s blue eyes lit slightly in triumph.

By next week, it would be all over the newspapers - The Girls Who Lived had been tested as having special powers, and were being sent to live with family in the Muggle world. And Peter Pettigrew, the one who had given the Potter family away, had vanished without a trace.

The details of the love magic, the Prophecy, and the Veil, of course… even the details of the adoption itself… would be kept a well guarded Ministry-and-Dumbledore secret.

-

Albus Dumbledore walked up to the Dursley family front door one November morning and knocked. It was a weekend, so Vernon Dursley would be home from work. The house, big, square, and two story with a neat walled-in garden, loomed around him.

Petunia Dursley opened the front door, saw him, screamed, and slammed the door shut.

Dumbledore sighed. “Petunia,” he called, “I had hoped we wouldn’t start off with this, but your sister is dead.”

Silence on the other side of the door. Then, slowly, the door opened, Petunia Dursley peeking with big blue eyes around it at the wizard before her, who was dressed in a bizarre plum purple suit. She herself wore neat blonde hair and a flowery house dress.

“And shutting the door in my face,” Dumbledore continued matter of factly, “was rude.”

He walked past her into the house, past Vernon Dursley, who had stood and seemed to be trying to shield his chubby blond infant son Dudley in his high chair, scowling thunderously. Vernon Dursley was a vast man in every sense, with a red face, an ever-extending belly, and a bushy black mustache. He wore suits and ties. Their son was also Muggle.

Dumbledore pulled up a chair in the kitchen and sat down.

“Please sit,” he said, waving. “I assume you at least want to hear the basic details of Lily and James Potter’s murder. They were, no matter how badly you got along… family.” He looked over his glasses at them sternly.

He was blunt, cold, crisp, and to the point.

The Dursleys slowly and hesitantly sat down in their neat English suburban Muggle kitchen… and Dumbledore explained. He told them the whole story in great detail, the civil war’s purpose, how the Potters had been on the side defending Muggles like the Dursleys, the exact details of the Potters’ murder by the Dark Lord Voldemort and how and why their children had miraculously survived everything.

“Why does this concern you?” he finished calmly, as Vernon Dursley sat back in shock and Petunia had a hand over her mouth, furious tears sparkling in her sharp blue eyes. “Because I have this proposal, one I hope you’ll accept:

“Through private, undisclosed sources controlled by me, you will be given money. A lot of it.”

They straightened.

The private, undisclosed sources were actually the ever-expanding Potter Pureblood family fortune made off of medicinal potions sales. He decided the girls could continue to supply money if they grew to trust their relatives when older and training witches. He would leave that up to them, hence not telling the Dursleys that the money already rightfully belonged to the girls.

“During these girls’ childhood, you will have enough money to be furnished with a manor house of your choice. You will have all the theater and ballet trips and the holidays you could ever want. You will be able to pay for a nearby private primary school of your choosing for all five children. And you will have all the things you could ever need.

“Under two conditions.”

The Dursleys leaned forward eagerly.

“First, you take in the Potter girls to raise alongside Dudley at this Muggle manor house and in these Muggle private schools.

“Second, you undergo consistent counseling and therapy - you stick with it - particularly in the areas of parenting, from a stable Halfblood residing in a Muggle office.  
“If either of these two requirements ever fail to be met, I will know and the constant flow of money will cease immediately.

“I trust you will agree, and not just because of the money. Because of the blood love magic Lily produced with her sacrifice, as Lily’s blood relatives you are now the only people who can safely house these girls. Living with you, Lily’s blood magic protection will extend to your entire place of residence. It and they cannot be touched by this most evil of men.

“I would also remind you of some ethics toward Petunia’s sister, who fought and died so bravely for her children. I think we all wish to think we would behave so honorably in protection of a young child.”

Petunia and Vernon, already torn, had their eyes flick quite noticeable toward Dudley. Then there was the blood protection guilt trip… and the promise of endless money and a continued mostly-Muggle life…

Vernon and Petunia Dursley looked at each other. Vernon nodded once, his expression tight.

“We agree,” said Petunia boldly, still a little angry and emotional, looking with her chin lifted toward Dumbledore. “To all requirements.”

“... And what exactly do you propose we, as normal people, tell them?” Vernon added sarcastically. “Supposing we raise them as you hope we will?”

“As your own children? Why, yes, I can definitely see how that question would come up,” said Dumbledore loftily.

Vernon bristled a little. He’d meant… as witches. And Dumbledore knew it.

“I recommend you just tell them the basics,” said Dumbledore honestly. “Don’t go all detail. Don’t even take them back to us until Hogwarts age, or show them anything.  
“But tell them about the war, including why it was started over blood, and about the Voldemort story. How they survived and what the blood protection means for them. Their parents’ names and soldier occupations. Their fame.

“In the course of this, you may also have to explain a bit about the wizarding world. That it exists hidden. What a Muggle is. You could say that the wizarding world is old-fashioned because magic and electricity don’t mix. You could explain that robes are our ancestral wear but most of us wear Muggle clothes in everyday life. We believe in a governmental acceptance of all wizarding human minorities, and our government is more forward in its actions toward citizens. We have a worship of nature, a twin God and Goddess, our ancestors’ remaining essences, and the natural reincarnation cycles of the soul - similar to but not Wicca. We celebrate Halloween as Samhain, along with Summer and Winter Solstices.

“You don’t have to be extensive. I really can’t think of anything else they would need to know as young children in the Muggle world. Just tell them their basic story and the basic world they will eventually wade back into. Tell them about Hogwarts School, and that at eleven when their letter comes is when they will return to us during school terms.”

He could see they looked torn at the very least on all of it. Hopefully that would change with the coming Halfblood therapy.

“Shall I introduce them? They must be getting rather cold out there, even bundled up,” said Dumbledore expectantly.

“They’re here?” said Petunia disbelievingly, as she and Vernon straightened.

“Yes. I’ll have Minerva bring them in.” Dumbledore stood and walked to the door. “They can come in now!”

And in walked a severe, stern woman with square glasses and a bun of black hair, a witch probably like all the others. Her name was Minerva McGonagall. She was shepherding four young girls - the Potter sisters.

“This,” said Dumbledore, hand on the first girl’s head, “is Ophelia. A Shakespearean name.” Ophelia had a messy head of black curls and bright green eyes. “She has shown an early interest in storytime, which might translate later into a love for books. She is what we call a Legilimens - a natural mind reader.

“This,” Dumbledore put a hand on the next girl’s head, “is Io. A celestial name.” Io had long, straight blonde hair and blue eyes. “She has shown an early interest in drawing and coloring, and in the Potters’ previous pet cat, which might translate later into a love for art and animals. She is what we call a future-Seer - she gets visions of things to come.

“This,” Dumbledore put a hand on the third girl’s head, “is Morgana. An Arthurian name.” Morgana had long, straight dark-red hair and hazel eyes. “She has shown an early interest in broomstick flying, which might translate into a love for sports. She is what we call a past-Seer - she gets visions of things that have already happened, important and emotional moments in the lives of the people who are nearby her.

“And this,” Dumbledore put a hand on the fourth girl’s head, “is Persephone. A mythological name.” Persephone had a messy head of dark-red curls and blue eyes. “She has shown an early interest in dancing and dressup, which might translate later into a love for music and fashion - though she is already a little rebel. The darker, dreamier, or more exotic, the better. A little alternative girl, I think. Determinedly different. She is what we call a Metamorphmagus - she can change her appearance at will to look however she pleases.

“All were born on July 31st, by the heroic in more than one way Lily Potter. These are definitely destined to be four brilliant and talented witches, in addition to their fame, feeding off of each other to become better.”

“... Well we don’t care about that,” Petunia sniffed at last, standing and recovering from her surprise.

“Quite right,” said Vernon sternly. “They’ll be treated normally and they’ll like it that way.”

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged a long look, headmaster and deputy headmistress communicating silently. “That,” said Dumbledore determinedly, looking forward at last, “is exactly what we were hoping for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ophelia is Hermione, and she will be a Slytherin. Io is Luna, and she will be a Ravenclaw. Morgana is Ginny, and she will be a Gryffindor. Persephone is Tonks, and she will be a Hufflepuff.
> 
> I’ve seen lots of Slytherin Ginny but almost no Slytherin Hermione. I don’t understand this, as Ginny aside from her vicious curses never acts much like a Slytherin, while Hermione quite literally caught Rita Skeeter as an insect inside a container at one point and poked at her with a stick for an entire summer purely out of vindictiveness. Oh, and then there was the time she tricked Umbridge into getting kidnapped and traumatized by a herd of angry centaurs. And let’s not forget that she wiped the memories of her own parents and single-handedly shipped them off to a new life in Australia for their own protection.
> 
> … Why are there almost no Slytherin Hermiones?
> 
> I’ve put just as much thought into the pairings. Suffice it to say that though some of them may seem weird, I’ve put a lot of thought into them and I believe they’re actually going to be pretty damn cool.
> 
> Anyway. Each girl will make two house best friends and will have a rivalry with her pairing of choice - though there will also be together scenes where applicable, probably in an earlier discovered Room of Requirement. The rivalries will start to dissolve rapidly in fourth year. Quidditch may not play much of a factor. (And if you were looking, I’ve already explained in this first chapter how I’m going to manage books two, three, and four.)
> 
> The next few chapters are a complete plotting of the important Potter girl childhood differences. I couldn’t really take an entire childhood’s worth of pretty blatant differences and relegate them to a single chapter.
> 
> Finally, I have a witchy playlist that I’m using for this story, made up of every truly witchy song I’ve been able to search for, discover, and find. It’s rather long, but if you’re interested, here’s the list:
> 
> “I Put A Spell On You” by Nina Simone  
> “Burn the Witch” by Queens of the Stone Age  
> “Black Magic Woman” by Fleetwood Mac  
> “Here There Be Witches” by Creature Feature  
> “Seven Devils” by Florence + The Machine  
> “He Is” by Ghost  
> “Ghetto Ass Witch” by Ritualz  
> “Baptism” by Crystal Castles  
> “Hunting for Witches” by Bloc Party  
> “Burn the Witch” by Radiohead  
> “Kitchen Witch” by Ariel Pink  
> “Pagan Poetry” by Bjork  
> “Trick or Treat Dancefloor” by Cherry Glazerr  
> “Firestarter” by Blouse  
> “Disco//Very” by Warpaint  
> “Black Cat” by Broadcast  
> “Electric” by TEEN  
> “Witchcraft” by Blood Sister  
> “She’s Lost Control” by Joy Division  
> “Apply” by Glasser  
> “Floor Show” by Kelela  
> “Cobra” by Young Magic  
> “Lantern” by SBTRKT  
> “Creator” by Santigold Vs Switch  
> “Bad Girls” by M.I.A.  
> “Pretty Girls” by Little Dragon  
> “A Forest” by The Cure  
> “How Soon is Now?” by The Smiths  
> “Spellbound” by Siouxsie & The Banshees  
> “Crystallized” by Melody’s Echo Chamber  
> “VHS Dream” by Deerhunter  
> “Crystal Ball” by Grimes  
> “Feeling Alright” by Warpaint  
> “Priestess” by Pumarose  
> “White Walls” by The KVB


	2. Reasonable

Chapter Two: Reasonable

The Dursleys chose their manor with all due eagerness. “Finally,” Petunia said emphatically, “we can have the kind of lifestyle we’ve always wanted.”

They would, of course, still be reasonable, normal, plain, common sense people, however. It was the Dursley way.

Their home was a rambling white manor house with turrets, pointed roofs, lovely windows, and an ivy growing face. It was on a countryside estate outside Surrey so that Vernon could still drive to work at his company, his director’s job being a challenge he enjoyed. They chose a French traditional style in interior decorating, with gold velvet floor length curtains, long sofas and pillows in cream and gold colors, chandeliers, elegant mirrors, and plush carpets. Petunia, a fervent gardener, chose the gardens herself and she went for a traditional English style. There were wildflowers, trees, smooth green lawns, benches, and a gazebo out in the back gardens.

They had maids and people to upkeep the house for them, drivers for their longer and more elegant cars fit for a large and wealthy new-money family, but Petunia did all the gardening herself during the day while Vernon was at work.

Each girl got her own bedroom at the back of the house, and the four got a nanny to tend to their needs so the Dursleys didn’t have to deal with them at first. Petunia cared for Dudley herself and the Dursleys got more elegant front bedrooms - but also larger, lonelier, and gloomier ones.

Even their appearances changed: Vernon and Petunia began dressing like a fancy, wealthy, classy couple straight out of the 1950’s, Petunia in little black dresses and pearls. Vernon installed an indoor gym at the manor and began getting back into shape; he’d been a rugby player at university. Dudley’s children’s clothes were the best money could buy, and when they didn’t usually have to look at the girls except for in the dining room at mealtimes, the Dursleys even felt charitable enough to make sure the Potter girls had lovely young girl’s clothes, purchased by their nanny.

Appearances were important, after all.

-

But then there was the other requirement to fulfill - the therapy.

Vernon and Petunia sat down warily on a sofa in a cozy little room covered in quiet paintings. Their new therapist, supposedly a Halfblood witch in Muggle disguise, smiled sympathetically with her clipboard in a chair across the room from them.

“My name is Sarah Anthony,” she said. “Mr and Mrs Dursley. It’s nice to meet you.”

She had dirty blonde hair in a casual half updo and wore soft sweaters and nice pants. Her face was a bit long and she looked young but for the crow’s feet around her eyes. She looked… surprisingly normal.

“So for this first meeting, I’m just going to establish what we’ll be talking about,” said Ms Anthony. “A general parenting profile.”

“There’s nothing to talk about! We’re perfectly fine!” Vernon barked defensively. “This whole thing is ridiculous -!”

“Alright, Mr Dursley, Mr Dursley.” Ms Anthony put up a hand, her voice and face a bit harder. “Fine. Let’s just talk about the two of you as parents, then.

“You have a son, correct? Dudley? He’s the girls’ age.”

“Correct. We treat him very well and love him very much,” said Petunia stoutly.

“And he’s a Muggle?”

“He most certainly is!”

“Quite right!”

Their defense of their son was rather severe. It was plain they didn’t like magic.

“Now, define treating him well.”

“We give him everything he could ever want. We tend to him every time he cries. We clean up all his messes. We tell him he’s incredible all the time,” Petunia cooed fondly in a sickly sweet voice.

“So he gets everything he wants? Including if what he wants is unhealthy for him?”

“Oh, a little extra chocolate never hurt anybody!” Vernon chuckled.

“His tantrums? Always catered to?”

“Every time,” said Petunia proudly.

“And the minute he makes a mess it’s cleaned up. He’s never scolded or disciplined,” Ms Anthony confirmed. “Is he a temperamental boy? Any health problems?”  
“Well the doctors say he’s a bit overweight,” said Petunia fretfully, “and he is very boisterous, but that’s normal for a boy!”

“Quite right! Healthy boys are very energetic and love good food!” Vernon thundered.

“Did either of your parents ever treat you this way?” Ms Anthony asked next.

“Oh, no. It was always my dratted baby sister,” said Petunia in disgust. “The witch.”

“The Potters’ mother.”

“Correct,” Petunia bit out acerbically.

“And as for me,” said Vernon, “I grew up in a poor section of town with an absentee father. It’s why being normal and healthy, and being a good father to my son, is very important to me.”

“And you are quite successful. A company director, fairly wealthy even before this, with a stable nuclear family,” said Ms Anthony. “Right. And Petunia gives her son all the attention she never got from her parents herself. She would be inclined to treat this way any child she loves.

“Now, I am starting to see why Petunia, a Muggle, would despise her much-beloved sister, the witch. Are there any other reasons to dislike the Potters? Besides them not being what you consider normal?”

Petunia looked over hesitantly at Vernon. “James Potter was prone to mocking me,” said Vernon gruffly, “when we did meet. Stable, material, everyday things are important to me, and I’m… very neat… and organized. He apparently found that funny.”

“So, there is some resentment toward James Potter. This all carries over to their children.”

“They’ll be just like their parents!” Petunia shrieked suddenly. “I can guarantee it!”

“Quite right!” Vernon added.

“So you don’t like magic,” Ms Anthony confirmed.

“It’s bizarre, abnormal, freakish. Satanic, even, according to some,” Vernon added quickly, as Petunia nodded along.

“So what would you do if one of the girls displayed magic, either from their abilities or just accidentally?”

“Accidentally?” Vernon echoed, frowning.

“You don’t know what that is. Then it’s a good thing you were sent to see me,” Ms Anthony realized. “Let me explain. Magic is an innate, inborn ability to manipulate matter, in Muggle scientific terms. This may be a useful way to explain their own power to them when they get older. It is a power that grows inside the witch or wizard as they grow older. If they try to suppress this power, they will explode and take out everyone around them. 

“But there is in a healthier child something called accidental magic. When young, their power erupts unexpectedly when they feel strong emotion - it gives them something they seem to want. This is why training at Hogwarts is vital. If left unchecked, that accidental magic will grow increasingly bigger until eventually it may cause a disaster or kill someone. 

“But again, this is not a problem for a child. Nor is it a problem for someone trained at Hogwarts. 

“... Nor is it a problem a witch or wizard can help. There is no way around it. No way to get rid of magic. As I said, the consequences of attempted suppression… are severe.

“But you look like you would be inclined to punish someone who showed evidence of magic.”

“Well… if it’s not safe…” said Vernon slowly as Petunia frowned. “I suppose they would just… be sent away to their place in the back of the house with their nanny.”  
“Right,” said Ms Anthony. She had started scribbling the minute the interview began and she had never stopped. “Now, you seem to be strong believers in gender roles. Boys are boisterous, girls are dainty and quiet. Boys go on to have careers, girls go on to be housewives. Is that correct?”

“It certainly is,” said Vernon, with Petunia nodding along. “The world may be going to pot but we believe in holding onto some semblance of sanity, thank you very much.”  
“Is there anything else I should know about you? Extended family? Pets?”

“I hate animals,” said Petunia fiercely.

“She’s very clean,” said Vernon in good-natured amusement. “Nothing is ever clean enough for her.”

“After growing up with my sister, and now having to raise those hooligans? Certainly not,” Petunia muttered.

“And I have a sister,” Vernon added. “Marge. We’ve always told her exactly what we think of the Potters, and she agrees with us.”

“Has she met the girls herself yet? Or the Potters, for that matter?”

“No.”

“Very well. I suggest you hold off on that first meeting - not forever, but just until we get a bit further along in our sessions,” said Ms Anthony. “Now, we’ve already made progress - you believe that punishing magic would be a bad idea for both the girls’ sake and your family’s. You seem to agree that eventually training magic is the only way.

“Your current tactic seems to be to ignore the girls at the back of the house. Okay. So let’s start from there.

“Here is what I see. You two need to listen completely before interrupting or protesting. Here is what I propose we work on in these sessions - what you need to work on, in fact, in order to maintain your current lifestyle.

“You spoil your son. You love your son and you want him to feel loved, which is a good thing. But you take it so far that it is actually bad for him - he could without changes made grow up to be an unhealthy, obese, spoiled, entitled, and temperamental boy. You are further inclined to do this to any child you love. This stems back to your own seemingly dysfunctional childhoods. You are overcompensating, taking a good intention too far.

“You hate the Potters - both adults and children. James’s mocking seems to be a valid reason, while Petunia’s envy of her sister seems to be less so. But either way, you have the irrational conviction that the children are just like their parents, because you have a lot of pent up anger and you need someone to take all that out on. This is unreasonable and not fair to the children who may very well be little like their parents, and know nothing of your feud with their parents.

“This brings me to magic. You hate magic, and everything to do with it, because you fear it and you don’t understand it. It’s not something you can comprehend or control. Petunia also perhaps feels brushed aside because her sister had magic. These are not reasonable reasons to hate everyone with magic inside them. If you looked, I think you would find that most ‘normal’ things in Muggle society share a different parallel among wizards and witches.

“Look at it this way. If you were talking about people from India instead of witches, would your hatred, fear, resentment, treatment, or assertions seem reasonable?  
“You have gender discriminatory attitudes. You excuse Dudley’s behavior, which is bad for him in the extreme, but may expect much from the girls who you have decided not to treat well. You don’t make room in your life for men who want to be more family oriented or, forgive me, for people like witches who live in a very gender-future society and will inevitably be doing something with what they learn in school.

“Petunia is obsessed with cleanliness to the point of hating animals, seemingly purely because she seems to be convinced of the somewhat disturbing belief that anyone around any sort of magic is left fundamentally unclean. Again, there are some nasty race parallels here. And again, this seems to stem from sister envy and feeling unwanted by parents.

“And finally, your poisonous thoughts about the Potters may have infected your sister Marge, whether you meant to do that or not. She knows only what you tell her, and you seem heavily biased toward the negative. Imagine if she treated the Potters awfully all her life without ever getting the chance to make up her own mind about them.  
“I do not believe any of this is intentional. I do not believe the two of you are trying to be evil, in spoiling your son, poisoning your sister with prejudiced thoughts, or acting with something akin to a kind of racial prejudice and irrational punishment. But that is what you are doing, nonetheless, and it is what we need to work on.

“Did I miss anything?” Ms Anthony finished, calmly and expectantly.

“Well - well - well that’s -” Vernon, a keen follower of the news and politics himself but blissfully blind to his own flaws, was left with his mouth gaping opened and closed like a fish.

“I do not have to listen to this!” Petunia shrieked, tears in her eyes, and she stormed toward the door -

“You need to pay off your house.”

Petunia froze.

“I hate to play this card,” said Ms Anthony calmly, not looking at her. “But you need to pay off your house.

“I would also point out… if a part of you didn’t think I was right, my words wouldn’t bother you so much.”

Petunia paused - and sat slowly back down, sagging, on the sofa. “What do we do?” she asked tremblingly, knotting her handkerchief in her fingers like a napkin.  
“Yes, precisely. You’ve pointed out inefficiencies, but I always tell my employees never to point out a problem without posing a solution,” said Vernon sharply, suddenly the calm businessman, his eyes sharp. He had crossed his legs and put his chin on his fist on the sofa.

“That is what these therapy sessions are for,” said Ms Anthony. “To fix these problems. I will be taking both the short approach and the long approach. Let me explain what I mean.

“The short approach. There are concrete techniques you can learn to suppress both your spoiling tendencies and your anger tendencies. This is an important part of your therapy - learning those concrete, common sense techniques.

“But if the problem behind them never goes away… something will always be missing, and my job will be left incomplete. Mr Dursley, it would be like bailing out a company without demanding it fix any of its internal flaws that led to bankruptcy in the first place. It is a start, but incomplete.

“So we will also be talking about the experiences and emotions behind your actions. This will be the difficult part. If you don’t want these problems to affect your life anymore… in stereotypical therapist talk, you must work through them with me. We will face past fears, hurts, and sources of anger.

“So we both target the problem, and replace it with technique-based solutions. Sound reasonable?”

That last word was magic in the Dursley family.

Vernon turned to Petunia and nodded once. “Yes,” he said seriously, “quite reasonable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small quickie chapter introducing this next section of the story. Chapters should start to be spaced out longer now. For my very beginning readers, I also edited chapter one slightly after posting - I had Minister Bagnold come up with a theory for where the three lost boys (so speak) will live and what their story will be at Hogwarts. It's in the paragraph where she agrees to hosting them at Hogwarts in the first place. If you remember that part, ignore this. It was something I forgot; I will not be forming a regular update habit.
> 
> Sorry the Potter girls haven’t been around as much. They’ll start to play more of a part in the next chapter, after Vernon and Petunia work some kinks out. The parents have to work on their issues before the family can come together, so to speak. I focus on the adults and the circumstances first so I can give context to the main point - the children. That’s what this section is all about - family and childhood, and that had to start with these changes.
> 
> I try to keep my Dursleys nuanced. This is actually a little window into what I think should have happened canonically anyway.


	3. The Hardest Part

Chapter Three: The Hardest Part

Vernon’s big therapeutic breakthrough and realization came first - in part, perhaps, because there wasn’t as much past emotional baggage concerning magic holding him back.

“So your main issue with these girls and their magic is that they’re not normal?” Ms Anthony confirmed.

“Exactly!  Witches and imagination and magic aren’t normal!” Vernon insisted.

“But Mr Dursley,” said Ms Anthony, blinking, “on every level, that isn’t true.”

“... What?” said Vernon, staring.

“Every major human advancement that has ever been made even among Muggles, including in subjects like philosophy and science, stems back to imagination,” said Ms Anthony, frowning.  “And if there is a huge population of wizards and witches out there, obviously we are normal.  You just had an incomplete awareness of what normal is.  I mean… we’re not a cult.  We have whole complex international societies.

“Even the Muggle idea of witches has been around and widely spread since medieval times at least.  It was just usually treated with hails of fire.  That makes it despised, but not abnormal.  The two are different things.”

Vernon realized he had no idea what to say to this.

“Mr Dursley, I believe you are such a slave to what you think is normal… that it has blinded you to the truth,” said Ms Anthony plainly.  “These girls have a mutation allowing them to manipulate matter and they come from a foreign culture.  That’s it.”

Vernon’s mind strained back.  That couldn’t be it!  But he realized in disbelief… that it was.  All these weeks of talking and technique trying, watching the girls be quite normal small children from a distance, and in the end that was all he could come up with.

“They’re just little girls.  Small children,” Ms Anthony emphasized.

“I… I really have become such a slave to normality that I didn’t see that?” said Vernon quietly, frowning.  “But - I still think of magic and I feel uncomfortable, nervous!  Why?”

“You tell me,” said Ms Anthony.  “What have we discussed about you over these sessions together?”  
“My need for control,” said Vernon quietly.  “My all-consuming need for control… right down to neatness.  I was trying to control them,” he realized quietly.  “They make me nervous because I can’t.”

“But think of it this way,” said Ms Anthony.  “If your son Dudley, heaven forbid I’m sure, started smoking cigarettes as a teenager, would you really have full control over that either?

“... Well why should spurts of surprise, inconvenient magic be any different?  It’s true, they shouldn’t suppress their magic and can’t always control it.  But if they misbehave with their magic, isn’t that the same thing?”

There had to be something wrong with that argument - but Vernon reached back and found there wasn’t.  Ms Anthony was right.  That was all that was different about these little girls - who might, after all, as he and Ms Anthony had discussed, grow up to be nothing like their parents.

“They’re just daughters,” he realized.  He looked up.  “They’re my daughters,” he said next, “they are now, and I haven’t been treating them that way.  I’ve been treating them like lepers, or extensions of their father.”

“Quite ironic,” said Ms Anthony.  “Are you an extension of your father?”

“No,” said Vernon firmly, and that was when he realized just how awfully he had been behaving.  “I have to start treating them like they’re really my daughters,” he realized.

Ms Anthony smiled.

“That’s the breakthrough I was hoping for,” she admitted.  “And as for your sister?”

“... Yes, that story has to change,” Vernon admitted, feeling a little ashamed of himself.  “I’ve been an ass.

“And, of course… more discipline for all five children is logical.  We’ve talked about that, but you don’t really have to convince me.  I hate entitled people.  How can I have been so stupid and blind?”

“We all make mistakes,” said Ms Anthony softly.  “Especially when loved and hurt.  So you’re okay with them being magical and imaginative, in a basic sense… it only makes sense when really examined… and as witches?”

“I suppose the gender roles could let up a little,” Vernon muttered begrudgingly.  “I do want people to grow to their abilities and desires and future.  I guess I just… won’t force them into either box.  Feminine or not feminine.  Magical or not magical.”

Vernon saw this as a workable compromise.  Ms Anthony decided not to enlighten him that it was what most feminists had been asking for all along.

-

Petunia’s breakthrough was harder and more emotional, because it involved her childhood and her sister.

“I just can’t let go of it.  They’ll grow up to be just like their mother.  Just as beloved, and they’ll abandon me and they’ll go off to a life I can’t reach, and -”  Petunia’s emotional voice was growing increasingly higher.  “And what if I do grow to love them?  What if Dudley feels pushed aside like I did?”

“Now let’s unpack this,” said Ms Anthony.  “You’ve done well at the anger and spoiling suppression techniques, and you’re doing much better with Dudley when realizing your previous behavior was bad for him.”

“Of course.  I love my son and I want him to be healthy and happy,” said Petunia earnestly.  “If that means more discipline, not a problem.  And of course, those girls.  I’m never spoiling them.  Not like Lily was.”  Her face twisted.  “They have absolutely no need of it,” she declared.

“That’s fine,” said Ms Anthony.  “So you’re saying they’ll grow up to be perfect like their mother.  Statement one.  First, you don’t know that.  They could grow up with plenty of flaws.  Second… was your sister really perfect?  After all, you didn’t like her.  She must have made mistakes.”

Petunia opened her mouth - and closed it again.  “But my parents -!” she said at last.

“Yes, there is that.  But, I would like to point out… you probably won’t ignore Dudley if you’re determined from the beginning not to,” said Ms Anthony.  “It’s the people worried about being good parents who usually don’t have to worry, especially with your recent improvements.  It doesn’t mean you have to hate his surrogate sisters.  Make sure they all know they’re valued.  

“In fact, make sure Lily’s daughters don’t turn into you.  I realize on a vindictive level it would be satisfying, but think of how you felt.  Do you want Dudley’s sisters to feel that way about him?  Or themselves?”

Petunia paused in surprise.

“Dudley should have a good relationship with the girls he grows up with,” said Ms Anthony bracingly.  “It would be good for him and for them.  Make sure they love each other, instead of fight.  You of all people should know how emotionally painful that can be.  And make sure they are disciplined but loved.

“Which leads me to your final assertion.  That the girls will abandon you and go to a place you can’t reach.”

Petunia swallowed and looked down, angry tears in her eyes.  

“As a sister, this was difficult,” Ms Anthony admitted.  “But as a mother… wouldn’t it be different?  Isn’t a mother supposed to be an important part of a child’s growth and life?”

Petunia looked up, her eyes wide.

“You may not get to be a talented witch… but how about nurturing and helping to create four?” said Ms Anthony, smiling.  “Four very different and powerful witches with incredible careers?”

Petunia looked like she was giving this genuine surprised, uncertain thought.  “I did always want a daughter…” she admitted slowly.  “Someone to be girly and classy with…  I love being girly and classy in the same way I love gardening…  And it would be nice, raising four witches with so much more than what I had…”

“Looked at in that way - are they really dirty?  Really so terrible?” Ms Anthony asked searchingly.

This was difficult to admit even now.  “... No,” Petunia admitted with difficulty, swallowing.  “No, I just - I was just angry.  Because I was jealous,” she forced out in fury.

And then once she’d said it, it was like something inside her had melted away.  She breathed easier; a weight had been lifted off her chest.  She’d admitted it, and something inside her had lifted.

“I was just angry and jealous,” she breathed again, smiling and breathing deeply, feeling lighter than she had in years.  She looked up.

“Now try thinking of them again,” said Ms Anthony.  “The girls.”

“... Some of the pain is still there,” Petunia admitted.  “But the anger is gone.  I… I realize this could be an opportunity and I need to see them more as my daughters.”

“That’s all I ask,” said Ms Anthony with a small smile.  “No motherly love forms overnight, contrary to popular belief.  From here, you can get to know them without undue prejudices and grow to love them over time.

“The hardest part is over.  You’re even doing quite well with your new money, staying level headed, keeping busy.  Now is when I would encourage the whole family starting to come together - sometimes with Marge, sometimes not - and maybe a lot less of the nanny.”

“Yes.  If I’m really going to raise them well alongside Dudley… servants may be needed but a nanny should not be,” Petunia admitted.

It was a huge step forward.  The family would be coming together at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now is when the Potter girls, Dudley, and Marge get more involved.  Lots of yummy family interactions on the way, and our first real glimpse of the Potter girls.  Fun things together with increased funds to come.  Everything has now been set up.
> 
> I have a strange emotional relationship with posting right now.  Updates will happen but be weird and sporadic; chapter lengths may vary wildly.


	4. Family Traditions

Chapter Four: Family Traditions

In addition to doing all the regular childcare items for all five children - feeding, helping to dress, diaper changing, bathing, potty training, disciplining - and doing them lovingly, Petunia and Vernon made an effort to introduce traditions.

Dinners together in the manor’s dining room, but also tea-times every afternoon - with milk at the children’s places at the table, tea for Vernon and Petunia.  They read to the children as a big group before bedtime in the sitting room, took them out for ice cream in Surrey city in one of the long elegant cars with a driver, took them to the movies and the theme parks quite often, or sometimes out to a nice restaurant.  They were quite strict on nice manners for all at the restaurants.  They gave the children bike riding and swimming lessons, letting all five of them play around on bikes or in the indoor pool together.

Theater, ballet, and dinner parties were still a little out of a toddler’s league, so for now they confined themselves to smaller family traditions.  And of course holidays and birthdays were coming up, as was their first family vacation (to Spain), so more was on the way.

Then there was the childcare itself.  Vernon and Petunia found it surprisingly easy to be tender with the girls during baby moments, even loving, and installed monitors in each little girl’s bedroom.  In their own quiet, dignified way, they began to care.  They also found it surprisingly easy to be not spitting angry when it came to discipline.  Disciplines usually consisted of timeouts and confinements to one’s bedroom.  And this began to apply not only to the little girls, but to Dudley.

The girls joined Dudley and Petunia on afternoons tending to the gardens around the estate - usually playing with Dudley, now much more freely and not violently, on the gazebo.  Like Dudley, they began to joyfully greet Vernon when he got home, sit in his lap over weekend mornings with his newspaper and coffee, and watch him work out at the indoor gym.  Petunia bought the girls lots of pretty dresses and introduced her children to French classical and ballet music, her hair pristine and her charm bracelets crinkling.

Dudley (large and sporty like Vernon, pink-faced and blond) was a naturally mischievous, rowdy boy, but under Petunia’s increasingly strict and sharp, beady eye he confined himself to teasing, running around, and hair-pulling when playing with his sisters, who became quite indignant and ran right back over Dudley’s laughter.  He did grow to love exercise, running around and letting out pent-up energy, and he adored Saturday morning cartoons over sugary cereal.

Ophelia (black curls, green eyes) was a huffy, indignant, bossy sort of girl - strict on the rules, but also good at revenge.  She was the one who would leave bugs and frogs on Dudley’s head in retaliation for a slight or a fit of rule breaking.  She did truly love story-time, and had such an excellent memory she was quickly quoting lines from her favorite storybooks right back at her surrogate parents.  She was quite proud of this, and though Persephone and Morgana snickered and Dudley rolled his eyes (Io always seemed to be gazing daydreamily off into space), Petunia and Vernon strictly forbade anyone from ruining her pride over being intelligent.

Io (straight blonde hair, blue eyes) was a space cadet from the very beginning.  She was very fond of relating fantastical daydreams, which she took great pains to show through drawing and (at Petunia’s encouragement) painting and children’s crafts.  To her credit, she had genuinely interesting ideas and a fascinatingly vivid inner mindscape.  So when she was staring off into space smiling to herself, it was sure to show up in her art later.  She said the strangest and sometimes wisest child things with incredible matter of factness, and she enjoyed taking in hurt and sick animals - an act of compassion her surrogate parents encouraged despite their bewilderment with her artistic sensibilities and their hesitation at letting strange animals into their home.

Morgana (straight dark-red hair, hazel eyes) was the one most likely to have the fight instinct instead of flight - to roughhouse right back with Dudley, who was bigger than she was.  She was a keen, underhanded little fighter, fierce and sometimes mocking in her egging someone on, provoking them, or in her humor.  She had enormous spirit but also required strict discipline.  Like Dudley, she loved playing outside.  Her favorite thing became kicking around a football in one of the back gardens, and she was also a strong and keen swimmer.

Persephone (dark-red curls, blue eyes) did love clothes, but strange clothes.  She and an exasperated Petunia were constantly arguing over her latest eccentric choice in outfit.  Persephone could insist in furious fits of temper even as a little girl her right to wear anything she pleased, and could be loud and shrieking when she did not get her way.  Petunia and Vernon had to put their foot down often on this note.  But she did also love dancing and music, doing a strange, comical, and adorable version of a two-step every time she heard a beat.  She loved classic rock which, according to Vernon and definitely not Petunia, simply meant “she had good taste.”

They showed early signs of their abilities.  Ophelia would often calmly and unexpectedly say what her aunt and uncle were thinking, sharp, quiet, and observant.  Dudley and her sisters grew up used to this, but for Vernon and Petunia it was very discomfiting at first.

Io would sometimes stare blankly off into space with her mouth open - and then matter of factly announce something she had just seen was going to happen next Tuesday.

Morgana would sometimes ask her aunt and uncle unexpected, curious questions about the most emotional moments of their pasts, which could evoke a rather unpleasant surprise.

Persephone constantly and unexpectedly changed everything from her nose shape to her hair length and color, seeming to find it deeply and loudly funny when this startled someone in her family.

Petunia and Vernon didn’t go against any of this, necessarily, but they made a cautious note.  “You must control this and hide it from everyone else you know,” Vernon told them all quite seriously one day, kneeling down to their level in the privacy of their manor.  “No one else can know you do this.  It’s not bad, what you can do, but nobody would know what to think.”

They nodded solemnly.

“So try to control how and when it happens - without getting rid of it,” Petunia counseled and encouraged.

All five children grew up knowing there were no secrets in this household, but for Vernon and Petunia the whole thing took some getting used to.  Still, the children were surprisingly quick to understand and became surprisingly good at keeping mum.

Slowly, the Potter girls began getting better at not showing their powers unless they were being contrary and they wanted to.

Petunia and Vernon watched in fond, amused exasperation as their now fully toddler children had tea-time one day.  “You two, stop!” said Ophelia loudly, her eyes flashing, as Morgana and Dudley snickered and shoved each other at the table.

“I would duck if I were you two,” said Io dreamily, and the two did just as Ophelia flung a wad of food at them.

“Hey!” said Morgana indignantly, scowling.  Ophelia giggled.

“No, no, try like this,” said Persephone, grinning, quickly and mischievously.  She shifted her face, and all of a sudden it turned red like a devil’s.  The children shrieked and then laughed and clapped.  Persephone turned back into herself, beaming.

Morgana suddenly turned to Vernon in surprise.  “Memories of your sister?” she said curiously.

Vernon paused in faint surprise that she’d caught that.

“They’re thinking about letting Aunt Marge come to visit us,” said Ophelia matter of factly, looking between them thoughtfully.  “Don’t worry.  What you’re wondering about won’t happen.  We won’t say anything about our powers.”

“Yeah!  Mum’s the word!” Morgana insisted.

“Yup,” said Persephone, bored, chin in her hand, half saluting lazily.

“I’ve already seen it.  Everything will turn out fine,” said Io, smiling serenely.

“Come on, Aunt Marge used to give the best presents!” Dudley moaned.

Vernon and Petunia looked at each other and smiled.  “I think it might work,” said Petunia.

“Well.”  Vernon sighed amicably.  “Alright.”  He shrugged.  “Let’s give it a shot and see if we can’t work a little family magic of our own.”

The children cheered.

“Now, I’ll say nice things about you,” Vernon warned, “but you had all better be on your best behavior, or this won’t work.”

It was time to see just how independently Marge Dursley was capable of changing her mind about someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone left an anonymous review hoping for another chapter. I wasn't sure how to contact them to say don't worry, one is on the way.  #AnonymousProblems.


	5. A Kind of Soldier

Chapter Five: A Kind of Soldier

Uncle Vernon went in a chauffeured car to pick up Aunt Marge from the train station.  Everyone stood up fast, having been waiting nervously near the front entryway, when they heard heavy footsteps and dog barking coming up the walkway toward the front door.

Aunt Marge bred bulldogs out in the countryside.  She always brought at least one with her.  Aunt Petunia used to hate it, but now post-therapy and with servants to clean her house for her, she had admitted she didn’t mind as much.

At the appropriate moment, a servant opened the door obligingly and Aunt Marge, a larger than life ginger-haired woman, burst through the doorway with bulldog in tow.

“Where’s my nephew?!  Where’s my neffy-poo?!” she roared in a deep, rich voice, grinning.

Dudley charged forward and she swept him up into a fierce hug.  When he stood back, there was money that had been pressed into his palm.

The girls stood back hesitantly, Aunt Petunia comfortingly beside them.

“This is a magnificent house, Vernon,” said Marge, looking around, impressed.  “You got all this from the girls’ parents’ inheritance?  I thought they were unemployed drunks.”

“Yes - about that -”  Vernon’s eyes shifted around, looking everywhere but at Marge.  “Marge, come into the sitting room,” he finally said awkwardly.  “There are some things I need to tell you - and the girls, because this will be their first time being old enough to hear about it, too.”

Even the Potter girls looked surprised.  “I can’t see inside his mind,” Ophelia admitted to her three sisters inside theirs, her voice echoing through their heads.  “He won’t look me in the eye.”

“I didn’t see this coming,” Io admitted back thoughtfully across the mind-link.

“I can see a blur of something,” Morgana admitted, “some memory, but it’s like he’s purposefully trying not to think about it.”

“I would turn into one of our parents, startle it out of him, but I don’t know they looked like,” Persephone admitted thoughtfully.  “I guess there are still some things our aunt and uncle have learned they can keep from us.”

Everyone went into the sitting room and sat down slowly, hesitant and uncertain.  Marge took the sofa while Petunia and Vernon took chairs.

“There are some things we can’t tell you,” said Vernon to Marge, “but what we always told you about the Potters was a cover story.  They were… a kind of soldier.”

The girls looked curious, listening closely.

“That’s how they died,” said Petunia quietly, sorrowful.

Marge’s eyes widened.  “A cover story,” she breathed.  “Of course!  Why, if I’d known - one of my closest friends is an ex Colonel!”

“Exactly,” said Vernon more definitely, sitting back in his chair near the roaring fire in the sitting room’s marble fireplace in relief.

“We didn’t want it affecting how you treated the girls,” said Petunia in concern, flame light flickering across her face.  “They’re good children, and this inheritance is all from their family.”

In Marge’s mind, the Potters went from unemployed drunks to wealthy and tragic soldiers.  “Well,” she breathed, “that changes everything.  And Petunia is such a good person - it makes sense!”

Marge’s dog began barking at the girls and they jumped, backing away fearfully.

“Ripper, no!” Marge barked.  “You treat those girls well!”  She was quite fierce.

Ripper whined and curled up on the floor immediately.

“Now,” said Marge to the girls, “come here and let me have a look at you.”  They went to stand hesitantly before her.  She looked them over and smiled.  “Well, you have two incredible people to live up to,” she said, “but you’re very pretty little girls, and you seem quiet and obedient enough.  If my brother and his wife like you… that’s good enough for me.”

The girls smiled.  They would always remember this moment as the first time they felt a true sense of total belonging and pride in the family way - both from their late parents, and from all the Dursleys together.

“They play with me,” Dudley piped up brightly.  “They’re amazing.”

Marge roared with laughter.  “They play with you?!  Well let’s see then!”

Aunt Marge proved to be so much fun, chasing them around the floor, both playful and fiercely competitive.  She introduced them to Ripper until he warmed up to them, and she told them stories.  Aunt Marge was a warm, loud, funny woman who loved both animals and fairy tales.

All five children soon found her to be quite ideal.

When Aunt Marge heard the girls didn’t know many magical or princess stories, she quickly decided to remedy this.  “All little girls should know magic and princess stories,” she declared.  “Your childhood has been in remiss!”

The girls were soon sitting on the floor before the big-screen television in a manor room, entranced and fascinated with stories they would soon be obsessed with as little girls for years to come.

Marge stood back in the doorway, watching them in satisfaction beside Vernon and Petunia.  “Feel free to come around anytime you want, Marge,” said Vernon fondly.  “Birthdays, holidays… that was quite well done.”

“They’re good children.  I had to play with them and see,” Marge admitted.  “It was my own little test.  But they passed - with flying colors,” she said fondly.  On a natural, unprejudiced level, it turned out Marge liked the Potters.  Then she added frankly, “I’ll have to start bringing more money for visits.”

“With five children?  Just a bit,” said Petunia wryly.

In a way she envied Marge.  Discipline of the children would never fall to Marge Dursley.

Vernon was relieved for a different reason.  He and Petunia seemed to have discovered a near foolproof secret-keeping method against powers, useful as the girls began getting older.  And, just as they had promised… Marge had never seemed to suspect that any of the girls had any powers at all.

Vernon, meanwhile, had no idea how close his inheritance story was to the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more shortish chapters after this, an amalgamation of all the biggest full Potter child girlhood experiences.  Then we get back into regular canon plotlines already established.


	6. Tinsel, Treasure Hunts & Toy Museums

Chapter Six: Tinsel, Treasure Hunts & Toy Museums

For Christmas, the Dursley family always went to a local Christmas tree farm to pick out the best tree possible, with everyone in attendance for this all-important decision.

Dudley stood off to the side, bored.  Morgana ran around through the countless trees, pointing out loudly all the biggest and bushiest ones.  Persephone insisted equally loudly on having a tree with “character” - read “flaws and imperfections.”  Io felt a tender sympathy for all the tiny, scrawny trees no one else wanted, and looked like she was about to cry if she didn’t get one to take home with her as a pet.  Ophelia alternated between yelling at everyone else to settle down and matter of factly and methodically going over each tree in agonizingly slow detail.

“Alright,” Vernon finally called, exasperated, all of them bundled up at the tree farm with the two adult Dursleys standing beside the amused Christmas tree farm employee, “everyone gather round!”

A pause.

“Get over here, now!” Petunia snapped, her eyes flashing, much fiercer and much scarier.  That was when the children followed orders.  They were called back.

“... Thank you,” said Vernon, and Petunia nodded matter of factly.

Vernon turned to the children.

“Now here’s my deal,” he told them.  “If we pick two trees - a tiny and scrawny one for Io’s bedroom and a big one for the front entrance hall.  And if that big one is large and bushy but with plenty of holes and odd branches.  And if it passes Ophelia’s inspection.  Will all the girls be happy?” he asked flatly.

“We agree to those terms,” said Ophelia with crisp precociousness, and the other girls nodded curiously.

“Now, Dudley.”  Vernon turned him.  “Since you don’t care and you’re a big boy, you get to help me and this nice man carry the big tree out to the car.  Deal?”

“Okay,” said Dudley more enthusiastically.

He wouldn’t actually be much help, but it was okay to pretend, for the sake of Dudley’s pride.

Petunia hand-sewed them all Santa stockings to go on the marble fireplace for Christmas Eve.  (The Dursleys had managed to keep the Santa myth alive for the children through power avoidance, and would manage it for the next few years before someone finally thought the wrong thing at the wrong moment when the children were about nine.)  For the girls’ stockings, Petunia chose soft, silky purple and gold with pearly sequins and embroidered each girl’s name into each stocking.  Dudley’s also had his name, but was a brilliant wool red and blue.

The children eagerly helped their aunt and uncle decoration the house, putting up long strings of green holly and silvery tinsel, on wall linings and staircase banisters.  Neat fruit baskets went on all the little tables, a tradition Vernon said fondly his mother used to keep up in their home.  Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon put up little sprigs of mistletoe in doorways, but only they had to kiss in little polite pecks, smiling, whenever they walked underneath one together.  The manor fireplaces were always lit around the holidays and Christmastime, though Vernon and Petunia forbade toasting everything and making what they called “an almighty mess.”

The family also decorated the big Christmas tree in the huge, tall front entryway with the help of ladders.  They put up lots of sparkly, elegant, sophisticated balls and long strings of silver lights.  The tree had a sort of neat glamor to it.

Petunia and Vernon also made sure to do plenty of fun things with the children.  They drove them into Surrey to see the city Christmas lights, helped them make snowmen and watched in amusement as the five children started horrendously competitive snowball fights that they were careful never to let leak over into Vernon and Petunia, and they took the children ice skating and taught them how to skate.

There were certain traditions Petunia mandated.  The girls - and Dudley when, to their surprise, he asked - helped her bake lots of Christmas treats to go in baskets to all their neighbors and relatives.  The children then all went with her to deliver the baskets of treats by hand in a car.

And Petunia also insisted on every year having a television screening of a brilliant, beautiful rendition of The Nutcracker Ballet.On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, the whole family was always together - Marge included, as she and one of her dogs always stayed over in a guest room.  The family opened crackers together with shrieks and explosions of laughter and fun.  The adults watched, sitting back contentedly, as all the children tore open countless presents eagerly around the massive tree on Christmas morning in pajamas, a bulldog always sniffing around and “helping.”  Their stockings were always and every year filled with Christmas chocolates.  (Vernon’s idea, as he thought fruit snacks were a stupid idea for a child’s stocking stuffer.)

Christmas pudding was had, and this Petunia always baked especially herself, complete with her fanciful sugar cream decorations and flowers always covering the top.

-

Marge was always there for the children’s birthdays as well, staying in a guest room again.

The day was always tailored specifically to the child in question.  For the girls, birthday celebrations were spaced out over four days - only managed because the family was so wealthy - and each girl ruled a different summer’s day.  Dudley’s birthday was at the start of summer as well, so children’s birthdays were always a big time for family and sunshine even once school had started.

So each child got to pick their own cake and they got to pick their own dinner.  Breakfast always started out with a huge doughnut with a candle in it, and a loud, rancorous singing of happy birthday before everyone dug into their own individual doughnut.  After breakfast came present-opening time.

A treasure hunt was arranged in a different way out in the vast gardens for every birthday, but beyond that the child got to decide what they wanted to do for their special day.  And whatever they wanted to do, the whole family came along for the ride.  Sometimes multiple activities were done in one day.

The choice in request was always the child’s.

Io always went for the imaginative and odd cakes in a bright and airy sort of way, Morgana themed according to her latest obsession, Persephone purple and covered in musical notes (every single birthday), and Ophelia always had an entire list-long procession of detailed specifications that changed every year for a delicate, lovely, specially made cake fit for photography.  Dudley’s cakes usually involved comics, cartoons, games, sports, or superheroes.

Dinner requests were usually made from a long list of warm and filling family favorites, but outing requests could be quite individual.  

One year Io asked to go to a special shop in Surrey where one could request a porcelain, glass, or stained glass shaped mold to be made that could then be painted by the children on a long series of stools at a counter.  Gentle nature-themed birthdays such as tree-filled hikes, fish and tadpole catching in ponds and rivers, botanical gardens with tea, darkened quiet aquariums, and petting zoos were another favorite request of hers.  She painted faces on each sculpture and named all of them, and she tried to hold matter of fact conversations with the animals and plants on the nature visits.

Morgana loved physical, mischievous activities, such as trampoline parks, bowling, laser tag, paintball, rafting, and nerf guns.  The more raucous, competitive fun was had involving battle and running around, the better.  She was a horrible cheat, too, and she loved that no one could say anything because it was her birthday.

Persephone loved concerts filled with bright colors and children’s music complete with children’s dancing, and shopping trips in vast, glittery malls during which Petunia didn’t get on her case about whatever bizarre piece of clothing she chose for once (zebra print with tie-dye, etc).  One year she specifically requested paint balloon popping; another year artsy glitter fun; another year a gymnastics class.

Ophelia loved quieter activities - art galleries, poetry readings, and other relaxed things that sparked her mind and imagination.  She was from the beginning a tiny, sensitive grownup with an incredible mind and rather adult sensibilities.  Intricate paintings and emotional spoken poetry could genuinely move her quite easily to tears, even when she was very young.

Dudley usually chose theme parks, drive in theaters with hamburgers and hot dogs, modern theater movies with lots of noise and loud bangs and colorful animation, ice cream and sweets shops, the fair with lemonade and cotton candy, and occasionally trips to the zoo or the water park.  One memorable year he requested Blackpool.

-

Their first family holiday was to Spain - Vernon, Petunia, and their five children all went together the summer before school started.  Countless photographs were taken, and placed alongside Christmas and birthday photos around their home back in Surrey.

It was easy to see scattered throughout their home where the Dursley couple focus was - on their five children.

They visited all the beaches, putting on sunscreen, sitting underneath umbrellas and blankets.  The children were fascinated by tidepools, collected seashells, splashed around in the ocean with Petunia in her one-piece bathing suit, and built a massive sandcastle on top of Vernon while Petunia read underneath the umbrella.  The sea breeze swept through all of them.  The beaches were fine white sand, the sun was hot, and the blue-green water was so vivid, clear, and sparkling.

They also visited the markets, colorful and loud and crowded and filled with foreign delicacies and strange languages, and they saw plenty of old, fancy, magnificent ruins on tours from medieval Spain.

But there were kids on the trip.  So once the children began getting bored and antsy, the rest of the vacation was child-themed.  They visited lots of play old-fashioned villages complete with actors and local toy museums - things Vernon and Petunia insisted they still wouldn’t find back in Surrey.

The Dursley adults had other holidays planned for the coming childhood years - a countryside retreat and a ski vacation being high on the list.  Theater and ballet, the children would soon be old enough to try, along with dinner parties.  The children had recently started asking for a pet, so that would probably happen eventually.

But certain other things were coming sooner - hobbies, certainly, as the children got older, but also friends.  And mainly for one reason.  Their time at a local Surrey prep private school for their primary years was coming up very soon.

And Petunia and Vernon had promised themselves that once the children were well established at school, the time would come to tell them about the twin secrets of magic and the wizarding world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School, friends, accidental magic, and the big reveal are all next chapter.  After that comes one chapter full of lots of older kid fun and magic experimentation among the sisters.  Then the childhood section is officially over, guys.  Wow look at me go.


	7. Schoolyard Crushes, Nightmares Explained

Chapter Seven: Schoolyard Crushes, Nightmares Explained

The five children stood hesitantly at the doorway of their new classroom at a fancy Surrey prep school for young students.  The classroom had a big blue rug covered in stars, letters, and numbers, lots of little desks, and a few play areas.

“Go on,” Uncle Vernon encouraged.  “It’s going to be alright.”

The children still hesitated. 

“Now,” said Aunt Petunia, kneeling down before them, “you’re going to make lots of friends and learn very much, but you have to be brave.  Okay?  And you have each other.  Remember that.”

The children nodded.  “... Okay,” they said in small voices.

Finally, Morgana and Persephone charged forward.  Dudley followed, determined not to get left behind.  Io smiled and quietly followed her sisters and brother.  Ophelia was the last to hesitate, looking around and eyeing her options - then she moved forward into the classroom, cautious and determined to take in everything.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stood in the doorway of the classroom, Vernon’s arm around Petunia’s shoulders, and smiled tearfully.  They watched their children wade forward into regular school life.

The children all made friends and started learning, expanding their minds and getting marks and grades, expanding their social skills and attending birthday parties and playdates at friends’ houses.  Each had their own tack in school.

Dudley was not deeply academically interested, but under his mother’s sternness he did well enough.  His joy came from playing video games and running around on the recess yard with the other boys.  Social and active, he was a guy’s guy, friendly and open with a big smile - everyone liked him.

He was also very vicious toward anyone who tried to pick on his sisters.

Ophelia did amazingly well academically.  She ate up books and memorized times tables and was soon getting the very top intellectual marks in her class.  At the same time, she was terrible at strategy games and awful in phys ed.  Many children found her to be strange and bossy, too much like a tiny stern adult, but she finally found a home among the culture-driven artsy and bookworm kids.  This together with her siblings’ natural mischievousness mellowed her out a little.

Persephone did not do well in phys ed either, but this was because she had formed a natural clumsiness.  It was strange - she was excellent at dancing and she charged forward first every time, but somehow in regular life she was always prone to tripping over her own two feet or knocking things over.  She made friends with lots of guys who wore big black T shirts, were skinny and pale, and liked the same kinds of music she did.  She became the colorfully dressed, tiny girl in their group, secretly seen as cute and cherished in affection by many of the guys at school who most girls didn’t pay attention to.  Persephone did well in school grades, though not as well as Ophelia.

All the sisters, in fact, were on a natural level better in school academically and in marks than their brother.  But no one topped Ophelia.

Io was acceptable at phys ed, but easily distractible.  She often ran away from the track chasing butterflies, much to her gym teacher’s exasperation.  She found her group among the nature and bug nerds - the people who liked collecting rocks and bugs and hiking amid the trees on the fringes of the recess play yard, climbing the trunks.  She was still a daydreamy space cadet, but people who expected her to be an airhead were often surprised by sudden, observant comments - sometimes unpleasantly so.  Io continued to take in sick and hurt animals and love pretty, natural things and making art.  She was “a bit fey,” in the fond words of one friend.

Morgana was excellent at phys ed - fast, strong, fierce, and competitive.  Playful and grinning, she loved loud music and went for the sporty boys and played vicious games of football and kickball with them out on the field during recess times.  She was not afraid to get injured or get dirty, but she never lost sight of being a girl.  Like Persephone but in a different way, she was the secret fuel of many a crush.

All the girls were the fuel of at least one crush - Io with her daydreamy, gentle fairyness that brought out the protective instincts and her tendency to understand nature nerds; Ophelia intimidatingly cultured and intelligent, somehow always unattainable.

-

Strange things started happening around the girls.  

Io began noticing nature pieces floating to her, or flowers blossoming right before her awed eyes.  

Morgana once suddenly started levitating right above a place where a boy had been about to slide into her during kickball, leaving Morgana and everyone else extremely startled.  

Ophelia noticed that nasty things tended to happen to the people who made fun of her teacher’s pet, bookwormish nature, impossible things like purple splotches suddenly appearing on their skin.  This troubled her.

Persephone began noticing her clothes somehow unwrinkling themselves right before her eyes, or changing color and pattern into something more openly outrageous.  She also noticed she could turn her music player on and off from across the room with her mind.  This made her curious.

And of course, there were still their established powers and mind connection to contend with.

Finally, the girls all got together in whispers on the playground.  When they came home from school that day, they looked up and asked their Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon solemnly, “How come we can do the things we can do?”

Their aunt and uncle sighed.  “I was wondering when that would come up,” Vernon admitted.  

“People look at us funny when strange things happen,” said Io in a small voice.  All the girls looked sorrowful, self conscious.  “Are we weird?”  
Vernon and Petunia looked at each other.  “Okay,” Petunia admitted.  “It’s time to tell them.”

Even Dudley straightened from off to the side.  “... Tell them what?”

-

Everyone sat in the big main sitting room before the marble fireplace.  A fire was drawn up, and the story began.

“There is a whole other world out there, hidden,” said Uncle Vernon.  “A world of witches and wizards.  A world your parents were from.”  He looked at the girls meaningfully as their eyes widened.  “This means that you yourselves are witches.  You can never reveal your people and tell anyone.  But what you are exhibiting is a perfectly healthy thing called accidental magic.”

“Are you witches?!” Persephone demanded, in such a loud, shocked voice that everybody winced.

“... No.”  Aunt Petunia looked down sadly.  “I wished I was for a long time, but no, I’m not.  My little sister, your mother… she came from an all-Muggle family.  Not like you four, with two wizarding parents.  Muggles are everyone else - the people without magic, like myself, Vernon, and Dudley.”

Dudley was listening curiously.

“There was a wizarding war, you see,” said Vernon.  “Led by someone called Lord Voldemort.  He wanted to wipe everything to do with Muggles from the face of the planet, and kill anyone carrying what he called impure blood.  So there was a civil war between Light and Dark.  Your parents fought on the Light Side, defending people like… well, people like us.

“One night, Halloween night when you were a year old, Voldemort came to your house.  He killed your parents… and then he tried to kill you.  But your mother had sacrificed herself shielding you from one of his attacks.  She loved you very much.  And that love and blood protection was so powerful that now Voldemort could not touch you.  Not even with magic.  So his Killing Curse rebounded, and he was destroyed instead.  You became instantly famous in your own world, as The Girls Who Lived.  Your mother’s sacrifice ended the war.

“That’s how you came to live with us.

“So what I said is true.  Your parents were soldiers, and this money does come from their world.  Everyone wanted to make sure you were very well taken care of here.  Your parents’ names… were Lily and James Potter.  Witch and wizard.”

The girls looked awed, as did Dudley.  

“There are certain things you should know,” Petunia continued.  “Magic is an innate, inborn ability to manipulate matter - you know what matter is from school.  Accidental magic is a definite, but wandless magic is also a possibility if you work hard enough at it.  You will eventually, at eleven, go back to the wizarding world to attend a secondary education boarding school for people of your kind - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  You will have wands and learn magic and potions there.  You will spend school terms there, and come back here during holidays.

“So you have to know something about your world, don’t you?

“The wizarding world is old-fashioned.  Magic and electricity don’t mix, though special technomagic is possible and expensive.  Robes are a witch’s ancestral wear, but even in their world modern witches wear Muggle fashions around in everyday life.  The wizarding world accepts all wizarding human minorities, and their government is very active in the lives of its citizens.

“The wizarding religion is similar to Wicca.  There is a worship of nature, a twin God and Goddess, the ancestors’ remaining essences, and the natural reincarnation cycles of the soul.

“The wizarding world is a gender future society.  We are told all witches will do something with what they learn in school.  There are whole complex international societies, career paths.  We are told most ordinary things in the Muggle world have a wizarding world equivalent.”

“That sounds amazing…” said Persephone, awed.

“Do you think that’s what the nightmare is?” said Io curiously to her sisters.  “The night of the attack?”

“What nightmare?” said Vernon sharply, as he and Petunia frowned.

“Sometimes,” said Ophelia, uncharacteristically sad, quiet, and hesitant, “we have nightmares of the same thing, in each of us.  A high, cruel male laugh, a blinding flash of green light, and a burning pain like something painful just hit us and bounced back off.”

Petunia paled.  “... Yes,” she said softly.  “Yes, that’s probably it.”

“Great.  So that’s the laugh of the bastard who axed our parents,” said Morgana loudly and fiercely.  “Good to know.  He sounded like a dick.”

“Morgana!” Petunia scolded, but everyone had begun laughing softly.  Suddenly, the warmth seemed to seep back into the firelit sitting room.  “... Duddy?” said Petunia hesitantly.  “How do you feel?”

Dudley surprised them.

“Like that fits my weird sisters,” said Dudley matter of factly.  “That sounds like us.  I go to a sane boarding school and they go to a place for witches.  It fits.  No offense, your world sounds awesome in like a tabletop gaming kind of way, but I wouldn’t want to be you in real life.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to be you either!”  They stuck their tongues out at him, but amused and with no malice, no more malice than Dudley himself had displayed.

Vernon and Petunia relaxed.

“Now, this is a secret,” Petunia warned.  “As you get older, and become older children, you can try wandless magic together.  But it’s all a great big secret.  Even from Marge.  That’s wizarding law.  The only time a Muggle can know is if they are… or become, through dating and marriage… a part of your family.  The law started because people used to burn witches.  This is a very serious thing.”

“Okay,” said Ophelia solemnly, and the other girls nodded with equal adult attitudes.  

Then they looked at each other and beamed in excitement, becoming children again.  Not only would they get to try magic now… but finally, for their second time in their childhood home, they felt a true sense of belonging.  There was a whole world out there that loved them, and it was filled with people just like them.

That was the day each girl began dreaming of her entry day into Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter of magic experimentation and older kid stuff!  Think I can make it?  :D


	8. Totally Jaded

Chapter Eight: Totally Jaded

The girls found their hobbies as they got older.

Ophelia came to love books, writing.  She became fascinated, even obsessed by, the power of words and the even greater power of knowledge.  An avid bookworm, stacks of her huge tomes began appearing around her bedroom and her house.  She had a particular fascination with the arts, history, and culture.

Morgana came to love sports such as football and swimming.  She joined a junior league and a junior swim team, began winning matches and competitions, and Uncle Vernon sometimes took her to professional football matches.

Io came to love art-crafting and animals.  She volunteered time at animal shelters and continued taking in sick and hurt animals.  She bought books about identifying plants and loved nature hikes and walks as well as ponds and fish.  She also painted, drew, and molded clay, porcelain and glass.  She even made an almighty mess doing it, but she came out with some of the most wondrous ornaments and creations.  With a talent for the avant garde, Io could create art out of anything.

Persephone came to love alternative music and fashion.  Wearing lots of purple, galaxies, and black, she became a total music geek and often metamorphed her hair into either shocking pink or deep purple, claiming she’d dyed it.  She continued to display her stupendous talent for clumsiness off the dance floor and grace in the midst of it.  Her stacks of records and albums in her bedroom were endless.

Dudley came to love video games and comics - on the geekier side.  But on the more macho side, he also came to join sports such as wrestling and boxing, putting his huge size to good use.  In this way, he befriended the two biggest differing groups of guys around his school, and soon had countless friends.

All the girls did things with their school friends and acquaintances, however - sleepovers, pool parties, makeup parties, and shopping trips being chief among them.  None of the Potters were necessarily unpopular.

More privately and more secretly, the Potter sisters began their experiments into wandless magic.

They learned they could do certain things - grow and shrink objects, make things float and move according to their will, make themselves levitate, open and close plants like flowers.  When they got angry, bad things happened; they could change and fix their clothes; they could turn things on and off.

Slowly, together as a foursome in what they called a witch’s circle, they would begin experimenting in the privacy of the mansion with their powers.  They even practiced controlling their more innate special powers - metamorph, seeing past and future, and mind reading and communicating - turning them on and off at will.

“Oh, look,” Dudley would say dryly to his bemused mother and father, “my witch sisters are summoning Satan again.”

-

As they got older, the five children also began being taken to the theater and the ballet.  They learned to sit still and quiet in formal clothes, poise and grace and manners, and a certain appreciation for culture.  The theater and the ballet could be both wondrous and beautiful, sitting in a darkened room and watching wonderful things happen onstage.

Dinner parties were trickier.  They had to learn how to hold their fork and sit up straight, how to converse strategically and throw in good compliments, how to dress for dinner parties at the long dining room table in the mansion, how to speak truly “posh” when they wanted to, and other such niceties.

Vernon and Petunia also took the children to their promised skiing and countryside holidays, a different one on a different year.  The five went skiing on snowy French and Swiss slopes and took long, lackadaisical drives through the countryside, sometimes staying with Marge at her big estate.

And they got their promised pets.  They got a bulldog named Minnie from Aunt Marge, followed by several caged birds, much to the bewilderment and exasperation of Aunt Petunia, who would have to take care of them when the children were away at secondary school boarding school and Vernon was at work.

Secretly, though, Petunia learned a begrudging fondness for the animals in her household.

Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge also coached the girls through puberty when the time came for sex ed in school and The Talk.  Uncle Vernon, meanwhile, coached Dudley.  By that point, of course, they knew things like Santa Claus weren’t real, so they were what Dudley wisely called “totally jaded.”

By the time primary school ended and Dudley’s eleventh birthday - which came first - rolled around and summer hit, the Potter girls had grown into quite the young women.

And they were just waiting for those Hogwarts letters to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have titled this chapter I Wrote This Despite Being Sick To My Stomach And In Pain.
> 
> I am exhausted from posting for this story essentially every day, so I will be taking a brief break.  No burnout, no hiatus, nothing so dramatic.  Just expect a brief break before the next chapter comes out.
> 
> Guess what?  Next chapter canon plotlines truly start, which means the boys first come out to play…


End file.
